


the broken heart you stole

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Break Up, Hurt, Lost Love, Love Triangles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 22:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20379067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: All Vincent knew for a time was Veld. Veld was his world when his own world went dark and his vision blurred and pain and death and red imprinted on the insides of his eyes while his fists lashed out, beating and beating until he didn’t know who he was and everything died beneath him.





	the broken heart you stole

**Author's Note:**

> *looks between Reeve and Veld* 
> 
> Vincent definitely has a type.
> 
> Suggested listening: Röyksopp - Something In My Heart

All Vincent knew for a time was Veld. Veld was his world when his own world went dark and his vision blurred and pain and death and _red _imprinted on the insides of his eyes while his fists lashed out, beating and beating until he didn’t know who he was and everything died beneath him.

For a long time, Vincent didn’t know who he was. He knew what other people wanted him to be. It was no different with Veld, but at the time all he wanted to do was make him proud. He’d wanted to make his father proud too, but he felt like he never did. He died before he could ask, before he even became a man. The last time he saw his father’s chest swell with pride was when he held his shotgun on his own and made the shot.

Ever since he was little, he preferred guns. The sound of the bullets drowned out the sound of his heart that always pounded and told him “you aren’t good enough”.

So when Veld sent him away, he heard “you aren’t good enough”. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d come to know—disintegrated like a body in a furnace.

Vincent thought he finally knew who he was. What he wanted. So when he saw Veld, it felt like his whole world was crumbling.

It was at a Shinra company party. He would never have gone, but Reeve had requested his presence and when he asked, they’d been outside in the pure white snow and Reeve, against the backdrop of the city—his city—covered in white powdery nothingness, had looked devastatingly handsome. His red scarf wound around his neck had come undone in the wind and Vincent could still see the mark he’d made against his skin.

So he’d come.

He didn’t expect to see Veld there. Didn’t expect his heart to do a flip flop and for his fingers to go numb with fear.

“Oh,” Reeve said, following Vincent’s line of sight. “I forgot you knew each other. He was the old director of The Turks, as I’m sure you know. He would have been your boss. He’s been working with the WRO for a few months. He was in hiding for years. He wanted to live a peaceful life away from Shinra with his daughter, but she fell ill quite suddenly a year ago and has since passed away. After she died, he reached out to Tseng. Wanted to be useful again. He was the only Turk to ever retire—but I guess he never truly did.”

Reeve’s words felt far away in Vincent’s ears. He left the party, going to the roof. The snow trailed slowly down as he looked out over the dark gray sky. The moon looked hazy, dulled.

Vincent could remember the day he was sent away from Midgar like it was yesterday. Veld hadn’t been there when he left. There was no last exchange of words, no silent promises—no goodbyes.

Vincent had felt tears in his eyes when he left, but they were unshed. He’d never give Veld the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. Not that he came to see him off when the helicopter took him away anyway.

Now, on the roof of the new Shinra building, Vincent felt tears in his eyes again.

He heard the crunch of shoes in the snow behind him and blinked away the tears, the unshed emotion sticking in his throat. Perhaps Reeve got curious, wanting to drag his lover back into the fold with the others.

But no. Those weren’t Reeve’s dark eyes. Those were Veld’s. It had been thirty years. Or had it? Vincent had a hazy memory of Veld waking him up in his coffin. Was it real, or was it his mind?

Gray dusted his temples and there were more lines in his face, but he was still handsome. Once, he had been _his _Veld. Now he was nothing. And yet his heart ached to look at him.

“Vincent,” Veld said softly, standing so far away that Vincent could feel the rift between them in his bones.

You sent me away to die!

You said you loved me!

You broke your promise!

All these thoughts and more flooded into Vincent’s mind, but he didn’t voice them. He turned away from Veld.

“Leave me alone. You’re a ghost. You can’t hurt me anymore.”


End file.
